


Cabin

by LegolasLovely



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Reunions, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: An old friend invites you to her cabin for a reunion.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a few months ago and finally discovered I could put it up here under 'original work' so here we are! 2.5k of yearning that NO ONE ASKED FOR :)))))))) Very inspired by [this post](https://robert-hadley.tumblr.com/post/612268583352958976/settle-norfolk-the-lakeside-cabin-by-haarkon) from tumblr

This wasn’t what you expected. 

When she wrote to you and invited you to her cabin, you accepted immediately. Naturally. You’d missed your friend. But the excitement, even flattery, you felt very quickly simmered to nervous wonder. Alone in the woods. How would you spend the time? Days by her side would be easy, just like old times. But the nights… would be lonely for you. Still, even if you instantly regretted your confirmation to her proposal, this visit was something you had to go through with. How could you ever risk making her feel like you didn’t want her?

Once you arrived, however, you were the one who felt unwanted. There was no one at the top of the creaking steps to greet you at the door. You slid inside without provocation, locked the deadbolt behind you and toed off your boots, though she wasn’t around to tell you to do so. 

You called her name.

“In here! Down the hall.”

You wouldn’t call her the more eccentric of the two of you- neither of you could be described that way at all. But this- letting the chill wind surf through the open front door until you arrived? Expecting you to find her in a small, lamp-lit cabin you’d never seen for yourself? _Eccentric_ was the only word that came to your mind.

The first door you passed was the bathroom. The only other had golden, waving light peeking around the frame where the door had been left ajar. 

“Are you all right?” you asked.

“Of course. You can come in.”

Tarnished candlesticks on the dresser, the desk, and the windowsill caught your eye as you opened the door. It was a small room with homely, scratched wooden floors under your feet and an equally dark, equally quaint ceiling. In the middle was the bed with sheets barely hiding her bare and glowing body.

You backtracked, almost toppling into the hallway. “I thought you told me to come in!”

“I did.” She rested her chin on a hand and seemed to smile at your awe.

While her eyes glistened, yours narrowed. “I thought you were expecting me,” you said.

“I was. Over an hour ago.”

Was this supposed to be your punishment? It was nothing of the sort in your eyes. “There was an accident on the road. Took time to get past.”

“Ah.” She moved her hand and the smooth sheet slid down her chest. “Well, you’re here now. Do you like your room?”

You sighed. “I haven’t seen it yet. I came straight in here because I thought something was wrong with you-”

“This is your room. Why don’t you set your bag down and go wash up. You must be tired from so much traveling,” she said before she rolled over and turned her back to you without bothering to cover a single inch of it.

You stared at her, not quite comprehending her words, her meaning, her action, or the fact that she was completely naked just feet away from you. The image of her- white, silky skin, body curved like fresh, supple fruit plucked straight from Aphrodite’s favorite tree, and hair like polished oak- remained in you as you did what she said, though you still couldn’t grasp any of it. She expected you to sleep in that bed where she was right now? Would she stay? From what you knew of the cabin, there was no place else for her _to_ go. So why did she invite you here?

You toweled off your flushed face and stared at nothing. Was she sick? How long had it been since you’d seen her? Could her personality really change so drastically in that time? Was she using you?

No. She would never. Though you tried so hard to handle this with grace, to find the root of this shift in her, your skin was burning. Not from the woodstove in her room, not from your own embarrassment, but from your deep seated desire. You longed for her and had for years. So many nights had passed since you parted and you’d spent most of them alone, wrapped around a pillow and dreaming of her. Pleasuring yourself and thinking of her. Going about your day, doing the most mundane errands and work and imaging her by your side, smiling at you or holding your hand or kissing your cheek. You fantasized about her coming back to you, professing her love and defying the odds, the norms, the challenges and sharing your lives together. 

Whether she knew how you felt or not, she would never take advantage of you in desperation. This had to be real.

When you returned to the bedroom, she hadn’t moved from her spot, still curled up like a child. You said her name and she turned to you, mischief in her eyes gone.

“Do you think I’m acting strange?” she asked.

You closed the door behind you and smirked. “A bit. Leaving the front door wide open, hiding from me-”

“I’m not hiding.” She whipped the sheet away, revealing her body to you. “We’ve hid from this for years. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

You shushed her, hoping the tears in her eyes wouldn’t fall as you stepped to the bed.

“I want you.” Her voice was raw, her defenses down, as they always were and only were with you. She whispered again as you climbed over her. “I _want_ you.”

“You have me.”

You slotted yourself between her legs, bracketed her face with your forearms and kissed her lips. It had been so long since you’d seen her last, it was almost as if you’d never actually met, like all you could do was imagine her warm scent, her gentle hands, and her vibrant eyes. But here she was right before you. Here you were, surrounded by her, touching her, kissing her. Tears of relief, of desire, of affection fell from your own eyes, but you didn’t let her see them. Instead, you rolled to her side and pulled her backwards into your chest, arms enveloping her in armor, keeping the love and passion close and the fear and doubt locked away.

As you buried your nose in her neck, breathing in her joy and expelling her pain, feeling so perfectly close, you realized this was it. This is what the poets wrote about, what the artists painted and the canters sang. There was so much emotion, too many thoughts running through you that all you could do was grab her and smash your lips to her skin to taste and feel every inch of her. This was it. 

The touch could have been enough for you. Her smooth skin against your lips, her angles, corners and rounds under your hands, her bottom pushing against you, her legs tangling in yours. It would have been enough. But as painfully overwhelming as it was, you had to see her. Your eyes _had_ to open so you could watch the goosebumps inflect her flesh, watch her pink nipples peak under your touch, watch her face contort with want and _almost there, waiting-for-it_ pleasure. 

You did open your eyes, peeking just over her shoulder at the room that was bright with daylight and you laughed. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“Good.” She tucked your hands closer to her. “We’ll use the time well.”

Nudging your nose behind her ear, you said, “The curtains are wide open.”

“Leave them.” She looked back at you. “Let the world see that you love me.”

You did. She knew. 

Your love for her was the reason you came to this cabin in the first place. It was why you propped yourself over her body and kissed her lips while your hands danced along her sides, fingers launching into individual steps and twirls. Your love for her created this wild urgency within you to pleasure her and take such good care of her, she would never question her worth again. It became your duty to make her feel safe, confident, sexy, and adored without words. So your mouth and hands went to work.

You kissed and nipped at her neck, not to leave marks of possession, but to prove that she could trust you with such a vulnerable and vital part of her body. From there, you cradled her breasts, sucking and licking at her nipples with such felicity, one would think it was you who was feeling your own ministrations. By the time you worshipped her belly and worked back up her sweet thighs, you were so aroused it was painful. Though you ached, you didn’t think for one moment of touching yourself. This was about her. Everything you had was for her.

You returned to her mouth and hovered above, feeling her heavy, quick breaths even as your hand steadied over her hip. Her rhythm broke.

“I haven’t- I don’t really-” she breathed out a shaky laugh. “I’m not good at being the… the one who receives.”

“I just want to make you feel good. But we can stop any time-”

“No.”

Your lips made a quiet popping noise as they spread across your teeth in your smile. The little noise was deafening in this small room of heavy breaths, soft voices, and crackling woodstove. 

“I want to make you feel good,” you said again. You kissed her, hoping she’d let go and trust your words.

The kiss dwindled and simmered, but it didn’t end. Instead of powerful tongues crushing together, it was lips knitting to lips for the sake of closeness. She held tight to you with one hand while the other pushed your fingers from her hipbone to her core, encouraging you to proceed.

Everything was slow. What need was there to rush? You moved gradually enough to make her forget her worries but ever onward in order to build her thrill. As your hand worked her perfect mound- so sultry, so soft, so wet- your lips once again travelled down her frame, paying special attention to every nook that made her shiver and every notch that caught her breath until you reached the seam of her groin. Then, she was watching you.

Her eyes were barely open, as if she shared your sentiment of wanting to feel, but needing to watch. You encouraged her to open her legs more for you by sliding a hand under her thigh and hooking it back around to caress her hip. You were there for her, every inch of you, as you watched her eyes for any signs of regret or concern before delivering a kiss to her clit.

She gave a quick hiss and her eyes immediately clamped shut at the sensation. It startled you and left you wondering if you should continue, but she instinctively lifted her hips into your mouth and squeezed your fingers for more. A rush of pride catapulted through you. You were proud of her for wanting, for trusting you enough to ask for more, to physically take it and show you what she craved.

“Good girl,” you said, smiling around her clit when she sent you the naughtiest look she could muster.

You ever so slowly worked her into an unbearable frenzy. You didn’t know how long it took, you didn’t care. Feeling her relax in your arms, tasting her arousal that only kept flowing, and watching her lose herself in bliss stopped time all together. This was all you dreamt of, all you wanted to give her. You wished you could give her more. You wanted so much for her to understand what a lover should be able to do for her. And if you weren’t able to give her an orgasm, you would spur her on until she herself asked you to stop.

So you continued. Your fingers ached from pumping and bending and your arms could barely hold you up any longer. But then she whined and arched her back, pushing your fingers deeper inside her.

“Please, harder. You feel so good.”

You didn’t hesitate. You slid her hips closer to you- ever closer, and propped yourself up on your trembling arm. There, just inches inside her, was that heavy pillow of pleasure, pushing down and screaming to be touched. 

“Yes, there.”

Sinking to the bed- all reservations depleted, any shame evaporated- you dove into her core, sucking hard on her clit and circling it with your tongue until her legs were shaking around you. You wanted to talk to her, tell her how beautiful and perfect she was, how nicely she was fluttering around your fingers and grinding her hips into your face. You wanted to tell her how much you loved her but you didn’t dare take your lips off her body. She was too close.

She, however, was free to speak and wasn’t at all afraid to. She repeated words of encouragement- how good you felt, yes, yes, yes, yes, how good you were to her- she said them over and over as if she were a one woman stadium crowd cheering you on as you pushed her over the edge. Then she moved onto your name, moaning it so deliciously that you had to close your eyes in order to stay on task rather than drift into the deep, unforgiving sea of distracted, helpless desire. You wanted to give her this now.

She begged you not to stop. She kicked into the bed sheets. She strangled your hand, screamed your name and came over your mouth. Gorgeous, exhausted, and completely relaxed. 

After setting one last kiss over her mound, your rose to her mouth and kissed her lips. She was so devastatingly beautiful and blissed out, you barely knew what else to do. So you stretched out next to her on the bed and ignored your aching knees. She was already flushed from her orgasm, but when you looked at her and licked her come off your fingers as if it was your very favorite flavor of whipped cream, she blushed anew.

“Don’t laugh at me!” she said, whipping the sheet at you. 

“Never.”

She scooched close to you, leaning over your body, and running her fingers through your hair. “Thank you. That was… I’ve never felt as good as that.”

“I’m glad I could give that to you.”

She kissed you and you felt it- her love, her thanks, her devotion. Without breaking the embrace, she climbed over you and lifted the hem of your shirt until you stopped her.

“We don’t have to.”

“I’ve wanted to for so long. Please, let me take care of you.” 

Once you nodded, she kissed you again. You still ached for her, and maybe you always would. Maybe that’s what this was.

“I love you.”


End file.
